


through my rise and fall

by leov66



Series: atla au with no name (yet) [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Avatar & Benders Setting, Character Study, because like. its viktor. lets be honest, ill add the relationships if i continue this lmao, maybe ill seriously make this a series idk, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 14:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11186928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leov66/pseuds/leov66
Summary: life at the top doesn't seem as good as it used to. what does the student do when he's surpassed his master?an atla au, viktor's a waterbender





	through my rise and fall

It always surprised Viktor when people said that water was a calm element. Truth be told, he considered it to be far away from it. It was upredictable, stubborn and wild, and that was why he liked it. Ever since he'd been a little boy, he would sit by the shore and watch the waves go back and forth. Waterbending was considered almost extinct in their small village on the South Pole, ever since Viktor's parents and other powerful benders from their generation died. No one cared (or was able) to carry on with the tradition and he was left only with the moon and the ocean's guidance to learn the skill and bring it back. People never pointed it out, of course, but it made him stand out from the croud a little too much, especially since there weren't as many people where he came from. His brother was too young to understand when he left for the North Pole, alternating from screaming at Viktor to stop being sillgy, urging him to come back home and clinging to his grandfather's chest, ignoring him. Yuri was only six at the time, Viktor just barely fourteen, afraid, teary-eyed (though he hid it well) and about to leave, maybe not forever, but he wasn't exactly planning on returning soon, either.

 

On the other side of the world (and the journey certainly wasn't a pleasant one, quite the opposite. He learned many things about himself along the way, like not to trust people at any market ever, not to try to waterbend the waves just because you're technically a waterbender even though the top of your abilities is making an octopus and so on and so on), he found himself at peace with himself. Surrounded by people like him, people that could waterbend, too. He lived with them, made friends with them, even despite not exactly having made the best first impression.

 

(He explored other things than just waterbending, though, like the way the boys' breaths would catch when his hands wandered further whenever they were lying close to each other, how beautiful pink and purple marks looked on his pale skin, how convenient it was that their robes were so loose at certain places, how much it hurt to get your heart broken and hopes crushed sometimes. And so he learnt to live, to always smile and kiss but never give them everything you have because you end up empty and there might also be some sort of storm involved when you bottle everything up.)

 

In the eleven years he had spent on the North Pole, he ended up learning every single thechnique there had ever been, including the most ridiculous ones. The day he defeated Master Yakov in combat, he felt a sting of disappointment. It was boring sometimes to have no one to beat him anymore, especially since the old man had been the very first person to believe in his skills and show him just how much practice he would need in order to become good enough. They called him "The pride of the Water Tribe" and he revelled in it for some time. Until it wasn't enough anymore. His ambition made him dissatisfied with taking a break, always daring him to go further, further, until he felt in complete control. Nothing made him feel like this, the fluid movements he had learnt to love and know by heart, the feeling of water giving in to his will and his will only. However, despite all of his good will, healing never really became his thing and it always amazed him when other benders did it just like that, without even trying, without meditating for forty hours non-stop and giving numerous offerings to the Spirits.

 

(He had learnt another techniques, too, ones he promised Yakov and himself not to use unless he truly had to, ones that controlled water in other structures, plants, animals, other humans. The memory of the promise is still deeply engraved in his mind, the late hour, the rapid heartbeat of both his and his soon-to-be-former-master's, the dim candlelight, the hushed words.

"You must promise, Vitya. Promise on your mother and father's grave that you won't use it. Ever. Unless you're somewhere out there, rotting in a prison, away from any water. You can kill a person with this one, hell, given your power, you can destroy an army if it's the full moon."

"I promise, master. Why would you show me this if this- I- why? Why would anyone do this?" Viktor's voice is hushed, trembling. He's twenty years old, he doesn't understand at all. He only does years later, when it's a life-or-death situation, when he has to save the one that he loves and he doesn't care about the price he has to pay.)

 

His life when he reached the top wasn't as exciting as he thought it'd be, living as the tribe's advisor, teaching the young ones sometimes, searching for someone to crush the cold barrier he had grown over his heart. He used to consider marriage, too, finding a proper woman, a waterbender if possible, having children, teaching them the art of their forefathers, but never seemed to be what he wanted. Like water, he was wild and unprecictable, relationships and stability just didn't fit in the equation that was his life.

 

He was trained to become a warrior and when there was no war to fight in, he felt a sense of restlessness. In the times of peace that had come upon his world, he considered his powers to be - well, not pointless, of course not, but something along the lines of unnecessary. It made him toss in his bed, lie awake at night, wondering what he could do to fight the claws at his chest that screamed 'useless'. It made him feel empty, alone at the very top, questioning if he had chosen the right path. Maybe if he had never left, if he hadn't followed his parents' heritage, he wouldn't be feeling like that, not so lost, exhausted and blank.

**Author's Note:**

> work title from bruno mars' 'mirror'


End file.
